


Third

by Ailovlovyuu



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: 2 babies and a soldier, Alien Biology, Alien Cultural Differences, Alien Culture, Alien Gender/Sexuality, Alien Mythology/Religion, Alien Sex, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Bigotry & Prejudice, Bored Keevan, Character Death Fix, Dominion Culture, Dominion War (Star Trek), Drug Withdrawal, Enemies to Lovers, Feels, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gore, Kid Fic, M/M, Mentions of Suicide, Mpreg, Other, Prissy Keevan, Rape/Non-con Elements, Smut, Talk of Infanticide, Vorta - Freeform, alive Remata'klan, no beta we die like men, nonsense science
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-10-04 07:40:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20467436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ailovlovyuu/pseuds/Ailovlovyuu
Summary: Keevan wasn't the only one who made it out of the fire fight alive, much to his chagrin. The Federation is woefully unprepared for the reality of Ketracel-white withdrawls.





	1. Chapter 1

Sisko walked through the barren valley. Sand crunched beneath his Starfleet regulation boots. He looked upon the Jem’hadar corpses, the waste of life. The memory of the Vorta, so blase, stepping over them with that smug look of satisfaction. He could feel his blood pumping, heating up with the thought.

It wasn’t long before he came across the body of Remata’klan. The man’s eyes were a bit parted, exposing a thin slip of white. Sisko knelt beside him. Thinking that he didn’t know how the Jem'hadar honor their dead, he reached over the prone form.  Suddenly, a hand shot out and grabbed his wrist. It  was accompanied by  the flutter of eyes and flaring of nostrils. The eyes scanned the man. Recognition then found their way into the dark pools. His breathing slowed and he slipped back into unconsciousness.

“Julian! Julian, we have a survivor!!” Sisko shouted in the direction he had come.

Julian hustled to his captain's side, his replicator in hand. Upon scanning the doctor declared, “He will live, but might not wake for a while He is  badly  injured. We’ll need to carry him.”

The carapace along the Jem'hadar body, made the soldier much heavier than a human his size.  By the time the StarFleet officers got back to base camp, Sisko  was drenched  in sweat and even Julian had developed a slight sheen . The cave was cool, if a bit dank and a relief on their skin.

Keevan sat to himself in a back corner of the cave, atop his makeshift hospital bed. There was no reason to tie him up. He was exactly where he wanted to be. Garak caught the Vorta's eyes trailing the group.

“Seems you're not the only survivor after all,” the Cardassian teased. Keevan looked bored. His head lolled to the side to face the Cardassian.

“Wonderful,” deadpanned the Dominion traitor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment. I need to know I'm not the only Keevan shipper out here


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> someone's awake...

That Federation engineer was as all the rumors made them out to be. The communications system was back online within 24 hours of Keevan's capture. Help was already on its way from federation space. With the prisoner count now at two their sick beds were moved to flat stones considerably deeper in the cave. While the crew slept around the injured Trill, one would stand watch over them. The only real threat being the half dead Dominion servants in the depth of the cave.  
  
Keevn wasn’t surprised to rouse to wakefulness with the Jem’hadar looming over head. He just wished that fool of a doctor hadn’t taken off their clothes to better assess their injuries. Anything to postpone the inevitable pain that was upon him. Remata’klan released a booming bellow from his chest. _Yes, of course he'd be the one that survived_. Keevan knew the bellow was too deep for the primitive races starfleet had elicited for this crew, the small Ferengi had slipped his mind. It's not like they could do anything to a Jem'hadar this deep in withdrawal. The Jem’hadar’s massive lungs filled slow to release another long winded bellow. Keevan rolled his eyes.  
  
“Yes, yes, enough of all that. Just get on with it.” he relented, throwing back the blanket he’d been covered with. He had felt so sure of his survival when Starfleet had arrived. His plan felt flawless. They would do as the psychographic profiles had stated. They’d tend to the side of mercy. Now, as the third moved to join him on the stone sickbed, he thought _Maybe I really will die here, after all_.  
  
He was thankful to his poor eyesight and the even lower light. He might be stuck listening to it’s pathetic attempts at courtship but at least he didn’t have to see the creature’s garish features. Keevan's legs dropped open to accommodate the new bulk. He closed his eyes and took a beat. If there was ever a time to be a Vorta, it was now. He tucked his chin and when he opened his eyes they were wider than they'd been in lifetimes. His pupils blown wide and a lilac sheen adorned his face and chest. He knew that even in this darkness the Jem'hadar could see as clear as midday. So Keevan made the faces, parted his lips. Then, opening his arms, using a voice sweeter than the approval of gods, "Come to me, Remata'klan. I am the Vorta and you are my first."  
  
Things were hazy for Remata'klan. He had prioritized his men over himself. It had been days since he ran out of white. With the injuries he sustained in battle his body had burned the last of it trying to heal him. He'd never been this deep in withdrawal before. Then he was standing before the Vorta. It was a different cave. He could hear breathing in the distance. Sleeping things, not a threat. The Vorta shined like a fresh vial of white in the sun. Something stirred within him. For once the sight of Keevan didn't put him on edge. In his five years, Remata'klan had seen many Vorta but his was truly the most stunning. Vorta were unable to appreciate beauty but Jem’hadar were not. Those eyes, violet and open. Heat pooled low on his abdomen.

He’d never felt this. The hard armor plating covering his spear began to shift. It felt tight and the movement was beginning to relieve that uncomfortable friction. Still it was hazy, like those things were happening to another, far off body. The rumble had started deep within his chest. He couldn’t say how he made the noise but he knew its purpose. He was calling out to his Vorta. He ached. He needed. There was something wrong and he needed his Vorta. 

His Vorta, tender and soft answered his plea, took him into his arms. Thin arms, fragile bones more so than a Jem’hadar infant. They were warm. The face open and soft. Then he was being called first and something shifted. Acceptance, a gift from his Vorta. The Founders are good. Still, he ached. It was a dull thing reverberating through the plating on his back and stomach. It crept sharp and cold over his bones. The only warmth to be found in the living doll beneath him and the movement of his groin plating. A sweet humid scent came emanating from Keevan. The Jem’hadar’s powerful nose trailed the scent. First burying his face in the vortas neck before continuing lower.

Keevan’s mask dropped the moment the eyes were no longer on him. This was not a fun game. It’d been centuries since anything has entered him and if the reports were accurate, which they always were, it had most certainly been a fraction of the size of a Jem’hadar spaer. The creature buried itself between milky thighs. The space there was flat and featureless. The only indication of change was a viscous liquid coming from the slightest of slits. Thin as a scalps cut and only large enough for the tip of his tongue. Yes, it was here the scent was coming from. He lapped at the liquid as it slid down between the canyon of the Vorta’s ass. Then back to the source. The insides of the Vorta were a vibrant violet and made of spongy membrane. If the Jem’hadar could taste, they would call it sweet.

Keevan tried to ignore the cold pulrid muscle trying to worm itself inside. His arms crossed his chest as he began to pout. The Founders may have dulled the nerves in his groin but in this moment he wished they’d just gotten rid of the mass in that area. It wasn’t fair that field agents had to keep their slit while scientist and technicians got theirs bred right out.  
  
The Jem’hadar spear is shaped ideally for their beastly forms. Its tip in thin and forked. Each side moved independently reaching out like hungry tentacles. Then flared steeply to a massive based where spikes were held. It was teered like the cartilaginous ridges along their neck. _ disgusting. _  
  
\---- 

Nog had dreams of strange beasts devouring small animals, it was a relief when Chief woke him for his watch. As the grogginess subsided, he began to realise that the noises from his dream had not stopped. He rose his phaser and dared to investigate the rear tunnels of the cave, where the prisoners were being held. Upon turning the corner into a vast cavern he froze in place.  
  
“Oh, you’re awake. Glory to the founders,” Keevan drolled, his face an unemoting mask. “Go get your doctor, if my organs weren’t soup before I’m sure Third Remata’klan has remedied that.”  
  
Nog was too shocked to speak. His eyes wide, he look once more from the placid eyes then up to the passionate beastial rutting being plowed into him by the Jem’hadar soldier. Blinked twice. Like a runabout on autopilot, he turned around and walked back out to the encampment near the mouth of the cave. The place where everything made sense and coworkers kept their hands to themselves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like enjoy the story let me know. I'm either going to wrap it up in the next chapter or get waaaaay too fucking excited, which no one needs.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aftermath

Keevan glided over the sandy ground, nude. The light iridescence on his skin his guilded robes. Several sets of eyes trailed his strange body, foreign and alluring. Nog thought of the way women on Ferenginar weren't allowed clothes. Would Keevan's smooth expanse make them consider him a woman or would his flat nipple-less chest have them wrap himself? Garak's eyes rested on the thick purple blood between the Vorta's thighs. He recognized it as the results of blood drying only to soon be replaced by fresh blood several times over. It seemed the Vorta was also missing a few nails. O'Brien on the other hand had found a corner of the cave to suddenly be very interesting. Sisko raised and eyebrow but allowed Keevan to make his way outside, what with Julian only a few steps behind.

The Vorta waded into the water. His insensitive skin not comprehending it's chill. The violet blood began to diffuse upon contact like a child returning home. Julian wondered at its composition. If only to not think.

"Keevan, would you like me to help you?"

" I need you like I need a gaping head wound." Keevan threw over his shoulder.

So Julian turned to the cave to find his captain waiting for him at its mouth.

"Report?"

"Well, upon examination it seems that the membranes within his genital slit have been ruptured, causing the bleeding seen on his thighs. He's missing a single nail on his left hand and two on the right," Julian cleared his throat. "Though I am not familiar with Vorta culture and anatomy, in most species these types of wounds are constant with a struggle." Julian had trouble looking his captain in the eyes. 

" I see, and Remata'klan?" The captain's face, unreadable.

"He's lying unconscious, beside Keevan's bed."

"Unconscious?"

"According to Keevan without the enzyme provided by Ketracal-White, the fluid the Vorta excrete acts as a sedative. It seems that Remata'klan has entered a state similar to hibernation. If Keevan's estimates are correct he should remain like that for about three weeks. That's more than enough time to get him into medical stasis," Julian's tone stayed clinical. "Keevan's internal injuries have been exasperated by the physical activity, while Remata'klan's have full healed."

"I see," Sisko allowed himself a breath before going into orders for his crew. O'Brien estimates the rescue crews arrival is only a few hours out. Remata'klan was to be restrained. Keevan to be clothed, fed, and regularly check upon by Julian for changes to his condition. The rest of the crew were to finish the burial proceedings and pack up base camp.

\------------

Alone in the cave with a freshly bound and dressed Remata'klan, Keevan hovered over head. His face, lax, save his eyes. They were sharp as daggers. Keevan took an exposed foot and knocked the Jem'hadar prone. Something inside began to bleed again. He stepped on his subordinate's throat. He pressed with all his weight. Remata'klan's breathing stayed consistent. He could hear the doctor's footsteps coming up behind him. Keevan didn't remove his foot.

Julian took in the sight. Tactfully, he didn't bring it up. He could see that Remata'klan's breath continued unaffected.

"The ship has arrived. I've brought your clothes." Julian then dared, " once we get to Ds9, he'll be punished."

"Punished? Doctor, you can't put down the feral beast for biting. I am the Vorta and he is the Jem'hadar. To steal third Remata'klan's own words, it is the way of things."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> like comment subscribe lol jk 
> 
> I guess I got excited, cuz I've already started the next chapter. If you're in this deep that means you've put up with all my spelling issues, nonsensical grammar and abundance of typos... thanks for that. it's started off a little bleaker than I meant. hopefully the next chapter is able to pivot a little.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To DS9 we go

Keevan paced the length of his cell. It was boring in captivity. Sure, no irritating orders or shitty placement. The place wasn’t crawling in Cardassians, the ghastly species. Still, he was bored. It has been three weeks since their arrival on Deep Space Nine and all he did was sit around and wait for the doctor’s visits. Dr.Bashir claimed there were more complications from his injuries. Claiming that his laking knowledge in Vorta anatomy was the cause for all the set back. Keevan felt fine, no pain.

Much like in every visit before, Keevan was handcuffed and led to the infirmary. Today Bashir had him sit.

“After doing some testing I’ve come to a few conclusions. I believe that you may have contracted a parasite.”

“That is impossible”

“Did you drink any water on the planet? Or have you had any new foods lately?”

“Doctor, it’s impossible for a Vorta to carry a parasite, Vorta are a closed loop. Our bodies aggressively attack any foriegn matter and leaves no waste. Though we do breathe and on occasion excess is released with the breath. If it’s in my body then it is of it.”

“I see,” Bashir seemed to get even more concerned. “Are you too made through cloning?”

“I am.”

“Are you male?

Keevan laughed, “We’re a mono-gender people. Sexual reproduction has been bred out by the founders.”

“So, sexual reproduction is impossible for your species?”

Keevan just stared at him. He was not going to repeat himself. He allowed his eyes to wander. He mostly saw lights blinking here and there.

“I see…” Julian couldn’t understand disinterest in one's own health. He couldn’t understand most things about the Vorta, he was beginning to believe. Bashir turned to the console, “Well, I located a mass in your lower abdomen. It seems to be steadily growing as well.”

While the doctor spoke, Keevan began to wander off. He’d never been to the back of the infirmary. Exploration was definitely better than more drivel.There's no question that the Vorta were once a prey species when their footsteps are so light. Even to their own sensitive ears, a free footed Vorta could be completely silent. It's no remarkable feat that the doctor never heard the pitter-patter of feet. He didn't look back as he rounded the corner. He couldn't feel the way the back of the infirmary warmed.

As expected, Remata'klan's unconscious form met him. It was in a stasis pod to the side of the main exam table. No Jem'hadar had ever been put in stasis before. To say the sight interested Keevan would've been an overstatement. He was an old clone, 13th in his line. Life held little interest for him. He knew life, the monotony of days. Centuries had dulled his zeal. Still he'd also known death, he knew death a dozen times over. He knew it wasn't you that came back. He knew the emptiness of pre-creation. Did they know he defected yet? He thought wandering closer to the encased body. Did they activate the next, before this version ever had the chance to upload the last few missions? Peering into the polymer tank, he supposed it didn't really matter. A Vorta and a Jem'hadar out of time. What a pair they made, both defective.

He turned away from the tank in favor of prostrating himself over it. He looked to the ceiling and counted the imperfections. He attempted to deduce what happened to them. He'd been all across the universe still, he was new to the Alpha quadrant. One slash looked to be consistent with a Klingon weapon of choice, the primitive bat'leth. A splotch of blood, from the color, non hemoglobin based. It's hard to say the original color and constitution of it.

"Keevan?" The Vorta did not turn towards the voice. Instead he tried to figure out if the adjacent mark was a stain or a divot. 

"Has Starfleet secured enough Ketricel-White to wake him, yet?" 

"It'll arrive in a few hours." Julian was hesitant. Was it okay to be sharing this information? He knew the protocols, yet still it was much harder to maneuver in the moment. His lack of knowledge on Dominion races made deciphering the Vorta's reaction a test. Widening pupils in a Vulcan would indicate an agitated state. The same reaction in humans is one of pleasure. Though, in many races it would indicate a simple shifting of attention. The iridescence seems to wax and wane. He's yet to perceive a consistent span between flare ups. Is it consciously triggered or an uncontrolled reaction? There was a slight sheen now. Itself only visible to Bashir's eyes due to his enhancements. He'd need to consult the others. If only to figure how to best move forward with this patient.

The Vorta, could tell much about the doctor. Of those, the only thing that mattered to him was that the doctor's tests were over for the day. He thought of his bleak empty cell. The tank on his back vibrated. He stood. Almost imperceptibly, the Vorta began his sway. This one differed from his counterparts. Keevan would have to put on a show. He'd also need a little extra something as well. He turned once more to the tank. Humans are pack animals, he reminded himself. Keevan placed a hand on the tank.

“Can I,” voice soft as a prayer, “can I be there when he wakes” when he turned towards the doctor his brows were knitted high. “The Ketrecal-white should rouse him in a tenth of a second.” 

“I’ll ask Captain Sisko. It's about time we get you back.” 

\---- 

  
  


"I'll allow it."

"You will?" 

"Yes, leave a live stream going of the interaction. Have it being played for your consultants in their chambers. If the Vorta would like your presence stay but if not, join the consultants in their quarters." 

"Are you sure that's wise? What if Remata'klan has a violent reaction?"

"He may, which is why I'll be having Constable Odo in the room. You're dismissed. Oh and Julian, could you tell Garak to close shop early. I'll be needing his company before we move forward." 

Julian blushed, "Alright captain." He hadn't spoken to Garak since they left the barren planet in Dominion territory. He wasn't avoiding the man. He really wasn't.

\--

  
  


A few short hours later and all the officers were in place. Julian banished to the other side of the station and Garak consulting in Siskos office.

"What do I owe the pleasure? Do you need your measurements adjusted again?" Garak said, referring to the Kingon attack on Cardassia. 

"Actually, today I need an expert in subterfuge. There's no one better suited on the station but a Cardassian, even if it is just a 'tailor'" 

"I'm not sure what you're implying captain but all I can do us assure you that I will try my best. If you wouldn't mind me asking," Garak looked both ways, "what type of deceit are you referring to?"

Sisko smiled, hook line and sinker.

**Author's Note:**

> unfortunately I ended up being pretty invested in this story so hold on rarepair shippers! we're going on a ride


End file.
